


bluebells

by greedlings



Series: fluff bingo [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cane user Jon, Fluff, M/M, basira is mentioned super briefly, like my last one it's mentioned but isn't a focus, post 159, pre 160
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:07:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedlings/pseuds/greedlings
Summary: jon wakes up to something special
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Series: fluff bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670914
Comments: 2
Kudos: 87





	bluebells

**Author's Note:**

> this is my second fic for the fluff bingo hosted by the writing server i'm in! i just wanted some jonmartin fluff before s5 (WHICH AS OF THE TIME I'M POSTING THIS I HAVEN'T LISTENED TO YET) so i wrote them with the prompt "is this a date?" just a sof little thing to heal my heart a bit before it's shattered :v

It was quiet when Jon woke, the light of the early morning sun pouring through the small window beside the bed. Jon rolled his head over, gazing at the rolling hills stretching out into the horizon. Gentle, rib-like clouds-- _ cirrus castellanus _ , Jon suddenly knew--drifted across the sky, shifting and swaying with the gentle breeze.

Martin was already gone, his side of the small bed made neatly and left cold. He had presumably been awake for hours—he was an early riser, Jon had learned very early in their stay at the safe house—and he was most likely waiting for Jon to wake up so he could serve him tea and kiss his forehead. It was the same every morning, and Jon quite liked the routine.

Jon felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips, but he was still groggy—whatever ended up on his face was, he was sure, something too far left of a smile to truly be called one.

Suddenly, Jon heard rustling in the grass outside the window, and he froze. His thoughts of Martin were replaced with fear. Slowly, as if any jerky motion would be his death, Jon turned his head towards the window again. Had they been found? Were there other avatars simply waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike?

He didn’t have time to come up with any more theories before a cow lumbered into view through the window. It lugged along, chewing its cud as it did so, and Jon couldn’t help but laugh gently; it was just a cow. A  _ good _ cow, Jon noted silently as he took a deep breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Jon was slow getting ready for the day; his encounter with the Lonely had left his muscles tired, as if every movement was keeping them from slumber. But he had all the time in the world now. He could wake up with the sun, take his time to get dressed, spend time doing nothing but living.

When he finally made his way through the door, he found Martin at the stove. Though he was quiet, Jon could just hear Martin humming softly, the folk song that Jon was only half sure he recognized dancing along the breeze that swept through the open windows. Jon was as quiet as he could be as he made his way into the kitchen, hoping not to interrupt Martin’s song.

“Good morning, Jon,” Martin exclaimed as Jon came into his view. Jon jumped slightly at the sudden addressal, but a soft smile fell onto his face, and he watched as Martin followed suit. Martin placed the spatula he was using on the counter beside the stovetop and moved towards Jon, placing his lips gently on Jon's forehead. As he moved back towards the stove, Martin said, “Oh, if you want to sit at the table, breakfast will be ready in just a moment. I’ve already made you tea, as well.”

Jon nodded with a smile, turning towards the table.

The first thing Jon noticed was the small vase of soft blue flowers on the center of the table. They hung over the edge of their glass container, facing the lacey tablecloth that Martin had insisted on placing on the table. Plates and cutlery were set neatly on the table, and Jon could see a small plate of cooked sausages and another stacked with toast placed near the floral centerpiece. Even Jon’s chair was pulled out from the table as if waiting for him to sit.

He did, gently resting his cane against the table. Martin Moved into the room as Jon sat, gently moving two perfectly fried eggs onto the plate opposite to Jon.

“I know you don’t really need to  _ eat _ anymore but I thought… well, I thought it might be nice to have a proper breakfast.” Jon could see how nervous Martin was as he spoke, although he had no idea why he  _ would  _ be, “Anyways, um, would you like some eggs?”

“I’m good, Martin,” Jon said, waving a hand in dismissal, “I’m good with toast.” Martin smiled and nodded his head once before beginning to turn back towards the kitchen. “Oh, and thank you, Martin.

Martin laughed gently, and Jon couldn’t help but wonder why there were so many nerves laced into the sound. It wasn’t long before he was sitting across from Jon, an anxious smile pulling at his cheeks.

“No problem. The first shipment of statements from Basira should be here soon, though, so you can actually…”

“It’s okay. It’s eating, in a way.”

Martin sighed, scratching the back of his neck, “I suppose.”

Jon couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh, and the awkward blush that Jon had only barely noticed on Martin’s cheeks grew incredibly red. Martin began to stammer something, but couldn’t seem to find the words. So instead he laughed as well. 

“I hope you like… well, I don’t actually—”

“The flowers?  _ Campanula rotundifolia _ .” Martin's smile wavered ever so slightly, and Jon stammered, “And yes, they-they’re wonderful, Martin.”

“I’m glad,” Martin said, almost whispering. His eyes were focused downwards, on his slowly cooling breakfast. A dark pink colour still hung on his cheekbones.

And then, Jon knew something.

“Oh.  _ Oh. _ ” Martin looked at Jon, concern lacing his furrowed brow. Jon met his eyes, “Martin, is this… is this a date?”

Martin’s blush grew deeper and redder once again, and he managed to stutter out, “Well, I-I  _ suppose _ , if y-you  _ want  _ it to be. Of course, it doesn’t-”

“Martin.” Martin stopped mid-sentence, his mouth still prepared to continue his thought, and Jon smiled, “I  _ do _ want it to be.”

Martin was still for a short moment, but it wasn’t long before his mouth turned upwards, “Oh. Okay.”

Slowly, Jon leaned forward, reaching for Martin’s hands; Jon gently unlaced Martin’s fingers, replacing them with his own, “It’s wonderful.”

“Oh!” Martin said softly, “I’m glad!” He smiled, the action creating sharp creases at the corner of his soft eyes. Jon smiled back, and, though he could still feel the weariness that held it back, Jon felt that it really was a smile; it was almost strange how long it had been since Jon felt like he had  _ really _ smiled. 

It was really nice, Jon thought, to smile.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated!
> 
> you kin find me on tumblr @/greecllings and on twitter @/greedlings_


End file.
